


Taking Chances

by keelywolfe



Series: Sportashorts [9]
Category: LazyTown
Genre: First Time, Frottage, Hand Jobs, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-23
Updated: 2017-03-23
Packaged: 2018-10-09 11:31:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10411197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keelywolfe/pseuds/keelywolfe
Summary: Robbie doesn't believe in second chances, so you better take the first one when you can.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This wasn't the smut I meant to write. Oh, well, enjoy it anyway!

* * *

It had been Robbie's observation that life rarely gave second chances. 

Every choice led to another, a butterfly effect that led down different paths and maybe, just maybe, a person would have a similar choice somewhere down the line. Maybe. But there were no second chances. 

Never had that seemed more evident to him just now, in this brief moment. 

It had started simply enough. Spring had finally sprung and all the children had gotten their bicycles from storage, only all of them had flat tires from the winter and there hadn't been a bicycle pump to be found. Not that it was any of Robbie's problem, but he'd been walking past and heard their laments and some urge, some flutter of a butterfly's wing had made him mention, reluctantly, that he _might_ have a pump somewhere. 

Sportacus had offered to come with him to help him find it and--

"I didn't even know you had a bedroom," Sportacus laughed. He poked at the quilt that covered the bed, tracing the purple moon and orange sun embroidered on it. 

"Obviously, I do," Robbie said dryly, poking through yet another box. It _was_ a bedroom and once Robbie had even used it for sleeping. Now it was more of an extended storage closet with boxes stacked in neat rows along each wall. One of those boxes probably had a bicycle pump but whether it was the box labeled 'extra supplies' or the one labeled 'rarely used equipment', was the question. 

A question that seemed less important as Robbie watched Sportacus sit on the edge of the bed and bounce, like a child, like the fool he was, and his easy laughter made Robbie's mouth dry, swallowing against sandpaper. 

He'd had fantasies like this, secret and soft on the latest nights, impossible fantasies and, somehow, the impossible had happened. Sportacus was actually here, actually in his bedroom, sitting on his bed and--

It was his chance, his one chance, and damned if it wouldn't ruin everything, ruin whatever tentative truce they'd fallen into. It would, Robbie knew it would, but this was his one chance and he took it. 

He stepped over to settle one hand on Sportacus's cheek and tugged off his hat with the other, ignoring his startled protest as Robbie leaned in and kissed him. Oh, yes, please, yes, just this once, Robbie wanted this. His mouth was soft, lips parted in surprise and Robbie let his tongue graze against his, pressing harder. Their mouths jarred apart as Sportacus toppled lightly back, Robbie's weight pushing him off balance. It left the both of them on the bed, their feet still on the floor and Robbie over him. 

This one chance and Robbie was willing to risk any butterfly effect to spread out on top of him, press their bodies together and feel Sportacus even through two layers of clothing. Sportacus practically bled warmth and his mouth was no different, stolen again in one last taste, once last kiss…

Only, none of Robbie's fantasies had included Sportacus's hands sliding beneath his vest, blood-warm against his back, sandwiched between it and his thin shirt. None of them had reckoned on Sportacus pulling his legs up, knees on either side of Robbie's hips, giving him a valley to rest in. None of them even approached the idea of Sportacus opening his mouth, sighing into the kiss and deepening it, tracing Robbie's lips with his tongue, edging past his teeth to coax his own into movement.

It was the unaccustomed sensation of bewilderment that had Robbie drawing back, ignoring the way Sportacus followed him with a protesting murmur, until he could look down on him.

Sportacus was rumpled, both hair and clothes affected by such a brief kiss, as though it had sent tremors through his entire body. His lips were a pinker hue than normal and still damp, parted, an instinctive invitation to another kiss.

This close the deep blue of his eyes was stark but his gaze was languid, questioning, "You stopped."

"Sportacus--" Robbie murmured, hesitating. His gamble was a success and his one chance was lying here in front of him and yet, in this one instant, he hadn't expected to get what he wanted. It left him floundering and lost; Sportacus was hell on his equilibrium.

Sportacus wasn't one to wait and consider; he rushed in hell-bent and made his plans on the fly. He was already drawing one hand out from beneath Robbie's vest, rising up on his elbow and pressing their mouths together again.

Such a hot mouth, soft lips firm against his own, wetter as Sportacus again traced his lips with his tongue, pressing coaxingly against the seam of his mouth until Robbie opened it again and this time he let their tongues dance together eagerly, pushing Sportacus back against the mussed pillows and sheets.

He was already rumpled. Robbie wanted to see him _devastated_ , wanted to destroy that sweet serenity.

He fumbled between them, catching up at the hem of Sportacus's shirt as he pulled and tugged it up, dragging it over his head and ruining the orderliness of his hair even more. He wore a sleeveless t-shirt beneath it that didn't bother Robbie in the slightest. Much as he didn't care for the mythical 'sports candy', he was more than content to peel this particular fruit slowly, to learn its segments from the peel to the pith, to get to the sweetness within.

He did not, could not, have guessed that Sportacus would sprawl back into the bed sheets and let him. Never would he have believed that Sportacus would drag his booted feet up the back of Robbie's calves, hook his legs behind Robbie's knees and hold him in. Nothing indicated that Sportacus would sigh deeply when Robbie dug his thumbs in just beneath Sportacus's ribs, kneading the tight muscles there. That he would tip his head back with an appreciative moan when Robbie tugged up his thin t-shirt and slid both hands inside it, bare, bare skin, nearly oddly so, only a very fine trail of hair just below his navel.

Robbie drew his hands down Sportacus's sides, fingers digging slightly beneath him, his thumbs rubbing that thin line of hair, petting downward until they were thwarted by his belt buckle.

Sportacus opened his eyes, Robbie didn't remember him closing them, and the sleepy shadow of his eyelashes was a match to his lazy grin. "Don't let that stop you."

Robbie pressed his lips together and took him at his word, loosening the buckle and tugging his belt loose with a slithery hiss. The button and zipper were easily dealt with and beneath that, Sportacus was wearing nothing at all, bare skin greeted Robbie's exploring hand, a surprise to feel the hard, damp line of his prick grazing Robbie's unsuspecting fingertips.

"Ohhhh," Sportacus breathed, clearly as startled as Robbie. Ridiculous, the both of them. There were a limited amount of things Sportacus could have been expecting from Robbie opening up his trousers. Sliding a hand gingerly around his cock was certainly on the list.

Hot, damp skin against his palm and an inquisitive thumb discovered the tip was wet, a warm bead of moisture that Robbie rubbed over the head slickly, entranced by Sportacus's stuttering moan, the curl of his tongue against his teeth before he bit the tip, obviously trying to stifle any further sounds.

Oh, that wouldn't do at all.

"Sportacus," Robbie said, drawing it out in a deep, baritone drawl, one that he had observed before drawing a reaction from Sportacus. He was not disappointed with the results, not at all, with the way Sportacus's hips tried to hitch up despite Robbie's weight atop him, the way he sank his teeth into his lower lip.

"Sportacus," he whispered again, a low, thick sound. "Sportacus, should I stop? Do you want me to stop?"

Clearly the answer would be no.

However, he didn't anticipate the strength of his reaction, Sportacus's eyes flying open, his hands scrabbling up Robbie's arms and clutching at his elbows, holding him in position.

"No, I don't want you to stop," Sportacus gritted out and the flush of perspiration on his face was fascinatingly enticing, drawing Robbie down to lick a stripe up Sportacus's cheek.

He made a sound that was part protest and mostly a plea for more, dropping his head to the side to allow for better access. Robbie put a single finger on his chin and tipped his head the other way, giving the neglected side of his face a long, wet lick. He tasted faintly salty and reminiscent of shaving lotion.

"You don't want me to stop?" Robbie murmured, muffling it into his cheek. Not that he was doing much at the moment, his hand was still tight around Sportacus's cock but Sportacus was doing the work, rocking up into his grip in short, stilted little thrusts.

"No," Sportacus panted, "No, don't stop. Don't you stop, please don't stop."

"And so I won't," Robbie agreed softly. "Is this what you want?"

He didn't reply, whimpering as Robbie lightened his grip, easing it until there was only the barest of friction for Sportacus to drive against.

"What was that?" Robbie whispered. He nibbled softly at the line of Sportacus's jaw, licking a slow, wet path up to his ear. He ignored the frantic writhe of Sportacus's hips, settled his weight more firmly on top of him. "Hmm? I couldn't hear you."

"Robbie, please," Sportacus burst out. 

" _Is this what you want?"_

"Yes!" Sportacus cried out and Robbie smothered that shout with a kiss even as he tightened his grip again and the heat of his cock, the pulse of it against his palm was like something amazing, something glorious. 

Sportacus was burying words into the kiss, strange, syrupy sounds, a language Robbie didn't know and perhaps they were curses or sex words, perhaps he was pleading, begging for Robbie to finish it, and it didn't matter. None of it matter except the way Robbie was touching him, deliberate and hard, his hand getting slicker with every short, quick stroke. 

His whole body was shaking, his hips struggling to rise against Robbie's weight, trying to get closer, as if there was any closer they could get. Sportacus shivered against him and Robbie's hand went slick, hot wetness spilling over his knuckles. 

He hardly gave Sportacus a chance to draw a shuddery breath, tugging his hand free and capturing one of Sportacus's, dragging it between them. His slickened hand joined with Sportacus's lax one, cupping over his own hardness through his pants. If he'd been less lost, needed it less, he would have had the wherewithal to be embarrassed; as it was Robbie could only lose his moan into their kiss, biting softly at Sportacus's lower lip as he hunched into the joint pressure of their hands and came in a white-hot rush. 

Robbie came back to himself to find Sportacus clumsily petting his hair with his free hand; his other was still in Robbie's grip, crushed between their bodies and with a groan Robbie rose up on a shaky elbow enough to pull free. Pins and needles sank in and he hissed, shaking his hand. 

Well. That...that had been…

"Sportacus—" Robbie began slowly, shifting to sit back on his knees. He faltered and fell silent when Sportacus's expression shifted, his lips tightening. 

"I'm not leaving," he said shortly. He drew his legs up and scooted back to sit against the headboard, arms crossed over his chest.

Wait, what?

"What?" Robbie said blankly. 

Sportacus only looked more mutinous. "I'm not leaving. You can't just…you can't—" he made a frustrated noise, raking his hand through his hair. The curls stood up in sweaty twists, Robbie noted with bemusement. He sat in patient silence as Sportacus took a deep breath, another, and finally said, "You can kick me out in the morning. I'm staying here tonight."

"All right," Robbie said calmly. 

That seemed to catch Sportacus off guard. Whatever he'd worked up for an argument seemed to deflate out of him and he only sat blinking for a moment, mouth opening, then closing, before he said, weakly, "All right?"

"All right," Robbie repeated. He was already skimming out of his clothes, wrinkling his nose in distaste at their condition. A washcloth would have been a better choice but Sportacus already looked jittery and Robbie suspected if he tried to leave the room it would end embarrassingly. The last thing he wanted in the afterglow was an anxious Sportacus hauling him back into the bed and pinning him down to _talk_. He settled for stealing Sportacus's discarded shirt and hastily wiping off. He tossed the lot of it down the laundry chute, only a few safe steps from the bed, before climbing back in and tugging the blankets into some sort of order.

"Well?" he asked, raising an eyebrow at Sportacus, who was still kneeling on the bed, mostly dressed and completely delectable in his disarray. Robbie wished he could say that the blinding grin Sportacus gave him didn't make something lurch in his chest, that it wasn't as warming as a ray of sunlight, but, well, that ship had well and truly sailed, hadn't it. He lifted one corner of the blanket invitingly. "Come on, hurry up."

If he hadn't seen it himself, he never would have believed anyone could strip that quickly. It was fascinating and a touch disappointing that the view was so brief, but the wealth of bare skin suddenly pressed against his own more than made up for it. Sportacus wrapped himself around Robbie like a vine, settling his head on Robbie's chest and tangling their legs together. 

"If those kids come down here looking for you and that bicycle pump, you're handling it," Robbie warned him. He stroked a hand down the soft skin of his back, tracing the delicate bumps of his spine. 

"Deal," Sportacus said sleepily.

Robbie lay awake far after Sportacus drifted off, letting his fingertips linger against the nape of Sportacus's neck, threading his fingers through soft blond curls. His chance, his one chance at this had led them here and he closed his eyes, listening to Sportacus breathe. 

This was the path Robbie had chosen and he was going to follow it to the end. 

-finis-


End file.
